Being Me (Inside Out #2)(39)

My panic is instant. “But—”

“You’ll know before it happens,” he promises, and his hands travel a path from my waist to my bare backside, where he caresses and lightly smacks one cheek.

I yelp at the unexpected sensation and I hear the soft rumble of his deep, sexy laughter vibrate through me from behind. He is no longer angry, no longer driven by the emotion I thought was dictating his actions, and yet he still intends to spank me. I don’t know how to process this and I’m too distracted and nervous to try. I hear the rustle of clothing as he undresses and I try to predict everything he is doing, for fear of being surprised. Yes, he’s told me he’ll warn me before he spanks me, but for all I know, it will be three seconds before it happens. He seems to be taking forever, or perhaps time is ticking by in slow motion. I can’t take it anymore. I start to turn and he catches me around the waist, the thick pulse of his erection pressing against my hip.

“We really do have to work on the following-orders thing,” he murmurs, lifting me without warning, and setting me on top of the podium supporting the bed. “You’re going to climb onto the center of the bed on your hands and knees, Sara. Once you’re there, I’m going to spank you only six times, fast and hard, and then f*ck you until we both come. Count the blows and you’ll know when it’s about to end. Understand?”

My reason for welcoming this spanking finds me in this moment. I’ve sensed from the beginning not only that is Chris able to understand me, but that he alone, because of the connection I feel for him, can help me deal with the “me” I have left floundering deep in some secret compartment of my mind. He’s forcing me to face that me, yet he’s also my escape when it becomes too much. Tonight that escape is going to a new level. He is taking me to a place where the pain of my past becomes pain that is here and now and somehow morphs into pleasure. I hope.

“Say no and we stop,” Chris murmurs gently by my ear.

“Yes.” My voice is hoarse and I repeat my reply in a stronger voice. “Yes. I understand what’s going to happen.”

“Say it so I know you’re sure.”

I wet my lips. “I’m going to get on the bed on my hands and knees. You’ll spank me and then we f*ck. I’m supposed to count to six.”

“Climb on the bed, Sara,” he says after a pause, and there is a tenderness to his voice that hasn’t been present this night until now.

Slowly, I step toward the bed and the mattress shifts behind me as he follows me. His hands are on my backside, caressing, touching, teasing me with what will come next. Once I’m in the center of the bed, adrenaline surges through me, the anticipation of when he will spank me almost too much to bear. I glance over my shoulder, seeking that answer, and find him on his knees behind me.

“Face the front,” he orders, and I jerk my head away, but panic expands inside me. Chris’s hands caress up my waist and over my backside. Again and again, he caresses me and I can’t take not knowing when gentleness will become something very different. I have to stop this now. I have to—

His hand comes down on my backside, a sharp blow that stings, and I want to cry out but the next blow is already there, and the next. Somehow I remember to count. Three. Four. Five lands and this one is harder, deeper. I arch my back against the sensation and six lands with even more force. I barely process that the spanking is over and Chris is pushing inside me, his thick cock stretching me. He thrusts hard, burying himself deeply, wasting no time. Immediately, he begins to pump his hips, his cock pounding into me and stroking out of me, and he repeats it over and over again.

I feel each thrust in every part of my body, as if my nerve endings are alive in a way they have never been. Pleasure overcomes all else, and I push back against him, until I am moaning and panting and that sweet release I’d been denied previously is right there within reach, right there where I can grab hold and take it.

I hear myself cry out but I don’t recognize the sound as mine. I would never be so vocal, but yet I am, and I ache with the need for completion. Every muscle in my body feels as if it’s on fire a moment before my sex clenches around Chris and begins to spasm. My body jerks, and pleasure spirals deep in my womb and spreads through my body. A low guttural sound escapes Chris’s lips as he buries himself deep inside me. I feel the warm, wet heat of his release and the tension in my limbs begins to ease. My arms are suddenly weak and I sink to my elbows only to have Chris roll to his side and spoon me, my back to his chest.

His leg twines with mine and he wraps his arms around me. I feel protected, cared about, and, to my utter shock, immensely emotional. My eyes prickle and there is a storm brewing inside me that I cannot seem to control. Tears spill from my eyes and a sob slips from my throat. Then I am bawling uncontrollably, my body quaking along with my emotions.

Embarrassed, I try to get up, but Chris holds me to him, burying his face in my neck. “Just let it happen, baby.”

And I do, because I really have no choice. How long I cry, I do not know, but when it ends, I bury my face in my hands, ashamed by my lack of control. Chris strokes my hair in that gentle way I’m coming to love, and hands me a tissue. I swipe at my eyes, wishing my nose didn’t feel like it had a clothespin on it.

Still I don’t look at him. “I don’t know what happened.”

He turns me to face him and captures my let with his. “It’s the adrenaline rush,” he explains, then slides a pillow underneath both our heads. “It happens to a lot of people.”